Undercover of Night
by SvendalMunch
Summary: When a boy's rape and murder is connected to a series of homocide's in the gothic community, SVU calls in the experts. What happens when the Detective's of SVU team up with the Agents of the BAU to help catch a serial killer attacking "children of the night?" Well, it'll be a story you can sink your fangs into!
1. The Count

It was 6 o'clock in the evening when The Count started polishing his glasses behind the bar. Club Blood still had two hours till open, but the diligent bar keep was making sure he was ready. His tattooed arms flexed as they rung the glasses, wiping away grim. He had a cigarette between his fanged teeth, and red lens circled glasses sat on his slender nose. His dark hair was slicked back with two large stripes of gray, exposing his larger then average ears, decorated with crosses.

The club had only been established two months ago, but it was already the new hang out for all walks of the gothic life style in New York City, the burnouts, dropouts, dominatrices, punk rockers, metal heads, Suicide Girls, cultists, emo kids, industrial goths, and even some of the steampunk crowd. If you were into the macabre, you went to Club Blood. Owned and operated by vampire enthusiast known to the community only as The Count, Club Blood seemed to have sprung up over night.

Its success could probably be attributed to the fact that the club was actually the base of operations for the combine forces of the NYPD's Special Victim's Unit and the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit in their undercover operation to bust a ring of serial killers with an MO for committing sex crimes. At first they seemed like isolated killings, and the SVU Detective's were called in. When the patterns appeared sporadic and untraceable, however, Captain Cragen decided it was time to call in the experts.

The man known as The Count was actually SVU Detective John Munch. Normally a bespectacled conspiracy nut, somehow he'd been roped into playing the part of the suave and sophisticated Count. With fake piercings, an embarrassing dye job, skillfully fabricated tattoos, idiotic glasses, and the most annoying fake teeth one could ever be forced to wear, the distinguished detective had been transformed into a creature of the night.

As he continued to clean his glasses, a younger man came up to the counter. Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU was almost unrecognizable to Munch now. His hair (actually a wig) was shaggy and black with blond tips; his lips and nose were littered with fake silver rings; his eyes were smudged with thick, black make-up. Normally quite the academic in dress and mind, Reid was playing the roll of a Discordian cultist who called himself Archimedes. Archimedes was the supposed son of The Count. Reid, however, was not entirely in disguise at the moment. He was still sporting a button up white shirt tucked neatly into his pants.

"Hey sonny," Munch called playfully "how come I'm already in full Dracula before the sun's even set, and you get to walk around in a nice shirt?"

Dr. Reid looked up at the detective who was posing as his father and grimaced. He'd never get over how ridiculous they looked. "I'd prefer to stay in my own clothes for as long as possible." he commented, placing his glasses back on his face "At least you aren't stuck with a ludicrous, chain ridden outfit."

Munch looked down at his own disguise. He was wearing a black button up rolled up to his elbows, black slacks, nice suspenders, and a wristwatch. "I can deal with everything except the teeth," he shrugged "If we weren't two months in, I'd have nixed um."

Reid shook his head, but before he could retort, another gentleman walked up to them. "Reid, go change," he commanded. "The band will be arriving any minute. Can't have you blowing our cover." The man ruffled Reid's hair, causing the cheap wig to tumble to the floor.

The man was none other than Agent Derek Morgan of the BAU. He was dressed in a simple black T-Shirt with a Club Blood logo, black jeans held up with a belt that sported a skull buckle, and an earpiece. A pair of black shades hung from his shirt neck despite the setting sun outside. He was masquerading as a bouncer for the club, along with SVU's Detective Stabler who was currently letting the band into the back.

Reid stood up. "I really hope this charade is over with soon," he declared, begrudgingly following Morgan.

Munch went back to cleaning his glasses. How in the world had they all ended up in this mess…?

_Hello readers! Who's ready to go on a wild adventure in my first Crime Drama crossover? If you think seeing Munch as a vampiric bartender and Reid as a poetic emo child, wait till you see what's next! From the minds of Sven and Alyx, get ready for some weird shit._

_-Sven_

_Edit: Hallo Leser! I've made some small grammar and flow adjustments. If you notice anything I've missed, let me know, and I'll correct it immediately. Machen Sie sich fertig, Kinder!_

_-Alyx _


	2. Young Blood

It was a busy Saturday for the SVU detectives. Phones were ringing off the hook, hands shuffling over papers, voices irritated and fatigued. The tip line that had only been in place for a few hours was hot and it seemed like everyone had a few words for the unit. All attributed to the recent case that had fallen into the laps of these fine officers of the law.

A string of rape homicides had been committed in the Manhattan area. The M.O. was all over the place. Girls, boys, Asians, blacks, fat, skinny, it didn't matter. The cause of death was even varying from ligature strangulation to a bullet in the skull. They all seemed unconnected if it weren't for the fact that all the victims were obvious members of the gothic community. Piercing's, tattoos, fish nets, band tees, smudged eyeliner, crosses, black, black, black, you name it, one of um was wearing it.

Upon investigation, they discovered that all these diligent members of the industrial underground had been new members of _le Culte du Sang_, the Cult of Blood. It was a vampire worship group who'd recently established themselves in the community. Naturally, they had checked out this new religion and found every lord, count, and baron to be clean of guilt, leading them back to square one. In desperation for any leads, they had made a public announcement and set up a tip line. It had gone live only hours ago and it seemed like no matter how late it got, someone had a story about a dark figure or menacing shadow they just had to share with the SVU.

"Can you describe the man for me please?" Stabler was doing his best not to click the next number on his blinking telephone "…uh huh…uh huh…okay. So what you're saying is, you saw a fanged Frank Sinatra in your yard?"

"No puedo ayudarle a encontrar su zapato." Benson was trying her best to stay calm with the women "Us…Usted tiene el número equivocado!"

"Yeah, sure. And the ghost of JFK just crawled its way up my ass." Munch spat in disgust at the man's story "Call me back when you see Elvis. That's a story worth proving."

"So you're saying you found your son?" Fin crossed out seven lines of text in his notepad with frustration "I'm very glad to hear that. Thank you for your call."

The sound of four phones hitting receivers was drown out by the ringing of countless others. "This is a nightmare." Stabler breathed, leaning back in his swivel chair and wiping his hands down his face.

Fin shook his head "It's like we just sent out a universal invite to all the nut jobs in New York to give us a ring."

"I had a women on the line for ten minutes losing it over a missing black shoe…" Benson sighed, her elbows on the desk and her head in her hands.

"People are so ignorant." Munch hissed, ignoring his phone's vehement attempts to regain his interest "Tell them there's a killer SOMEWHERE in Manhattan and suddenly the usual creak of a stair sends them running to the phone. One day, we'll get an actual tip and none of us are gonna believe it."

He groaned loudly, unable to ignore the ringing phone any longer. "Special Victims, Detective Munch speaking." he answered, his voice inches away from sarcasm.

Before any of them could imitate the action, Captain Cragen came sweeping over. He pointed a finger at the four disgruntled do gooders "You four. You're off tip duty." he ordered.

Stabler couldn't contain a sigh of relief. "One of our tippers lead us to another body." Cragen finished.

Just like that, Stabler, Fin, and Benson were on their feet. Munch rose, finishing his conversation. "Thank you for the tip, Miss Evans, we'll look into as soon as we can."

He slammed the phone down and grabbed his coat to follow his fellow shields. "The women was claiming her ex-husband was trying to axe her." he said, voice dripping in disbelief.

"That actually sounds a little serious." Fin responded, looking wearily at his eccentric partner.

"The man has been dead for six years." Munch returned, throwing his coat over his shoulders.

"Unbelievable." Fin shook his head "Its like people think we're counselors."

"I wish we were paid like they were." Stabler commented as they all stepped through the front doors.

They all shook their heads and headed to their respective cars.

**Madame X Night Club  
>94 West Houston Street<br>Manhattan, New York**

Stabler and Benson were the first ones to arrive on the scene. They exited their unmarked police car and headed towards the back alley way. Ducking the Police Line tape, they came up on the crime scene. Two officers clad in black stood near a crumpled mess, pointing their flash lights down on it. The beams fell on the body of a boy covered in tattoos of skulls, silver piercing's, and his own blood.

The detectives walked towards the officers who had turned their attentions away from the spectacle to inspect the approaching inspectors. "Detective Stabler, this is my partner Detective Benson." Stabler recited, both presenting their badges "What happened here?"

The larger cop adjusted his pants to sit higher on his round waist and then spoke. "We got a call around eight sayin someone had been yelling in the back alley of the club." he started, jabbing his thumb gruffly over his shoulder in the direction of the body "We figured it wasn't anything to worry about since night clubs usually attract fights, but we sent a patrol car around anyway."

Olivia had squatted on the ground next to the body, pulling out a single latex glove. Without putting it on, she used it like a cloth to pinch the ripped collar of the boys shirt and move it aside. Just as she did the medical examiner appeared.

"We poked our heads down the alley and saw this guy already dead. We were gonna call it to homicide, but we remembered you guys were the ones with the Goth Killer." the officer finished, puffing his chest a little.

Olivia had moved back as the ME began her work. "No signs of blunt force trauma." She commented, turning over his wrists and inspecting his abdomen "No ligature marks."

She lifted the shirt Benson had started on. "Preliminary cause of death is likely multiple stab wounds to the chest."

Before the ME dropped the shirt, Benson had seen at least four stab wounds. "I'd say your time of death was about eight." she commented as she began to check for sexual assault.

By that time, Munch and Fin had arrived and were being caught up by Stabler. As the examiner finished, she sat up. "There's no obvious signs of sexual assault, but I'll know more once I get him back to the lab."

"Thanks, Doc."

Then, Benson noticed something in the victims pocket. She gloved her hand and reached inside withdrawing a leather studded wallet connected by a chain to his belt loop. She opened it. "According to this, the victims name is Henry Burkhart." She called to her fellow detectives, standing "ID makes him for about 25. I'm thinking it's probably a fake."

The three gentleman of the law shuffled over to their coworker. "What's the body count up to now?" Fin asked gruffly, not really wanting the answer "Twenty three? Twenty five?

"Twenty six." Stabler sighed, bending down to do his own once over of the body himself "And still raising."

"Jesus…" Fin groaned and looked up into the sky bitterly.

"You'd think these kids would get the idea and stop joining the Anne Rice book club that's sending them on a one way straight to the after life." Munch commented "But what's safety to a pack of rebellious teenagers when they could sneak out and join a suicide cult? Maybe they want to be vampire chow."

Benson sighed. In his cynically bitter, sarcastic way, Munch was right. Half the issue could be resolved if these kids could stay inside and away from this practice. This was becoming more of a nuisance then Santeria and that had popped up some real duzzies recently. "This is getting out of hand."

"We can't do this alone anymore." Stabler added, rising "No leads, every suspect turns up clean and with an iron clad alibi."

Munch shrugged. "What are we supposed to do?" asked Fin, slight exasperation in his tone "We can't just give up."

Benson mulled it over. "I don't know, but if we keep up like this, we're just gonna end up piling on the bodies." she admitted.

The four detectives stood for a moment. They'd never had a case this trying before. Every other day, they added a new victim's name to the cluttered board in the squad room, but the strip for suspects remained painfully empty. They were no nearer to closing this case then Munch was from walking down the aisle a fifth time. What could they really do.

Begrudgingly, Fin offered "We'll check up on the ID. You and Stabler wanna talk to the club crawlers, see if anyone heard anything?"

Benson and Stabler exchanged glances. "Alright, we'll see you back in the Squad room."

Three hours after they'd set out on their mission, the clock itching to jump its hands to midnight, the Detectives were still flexing their over worked brain muscles. Munch and Fin's search had yielded only the boys real age (sixteen) and home address. Turns out the name hadn't been faked. They'd delivered the news to a less then grieving father and been ushered away with no promise of cooperation.

Benson and Stabler had confirmed that the boy had been in the night club and discovered that he'd gone by the pseudo name Vlad. He was also a confirmed member of _la Culte du Sang_. But, much to the stress of the partners, no one had noticed him leave the club.

They were back again at the familiar square one. The annoying sound of telephone's ringing had lessened to the occasional bells, still sending Munch into twitches. Why? Why couldn't they catch a break?

Stabler spoke first. "We could try running over all the members again?" He offered, half heartedly "See if we maybe missed something?"

"If you wanna spend another long night in that disgusting, disease ridden, abandoned _tomb_, you be my guest." Munch huffed, still mildly disgruntled from their last visit to the cult headquarters where he had stepped on a decomposing rat.

"Besides, El, we ran them all four times already." Benson added, sounding beat "Their religion might be messed up but they aren't breaking any laws."

She had her head in her hand as she flipped through her notes, elbows on the desk "That and they threatened a discrimination suit if we harassed them again."

"Nobody was harassin anybody." Fin grumbled, spinning his badge on the desk in boredom and anguish "The only connection we got is that damn cult."

All four detectives let out a long sigh. "I think its time we admit we can't do this alone…" Olivia acknowledged the truth they all knew was staring them in the face "We're gonna have to call in back up…"

Just then Donald Cragen stepped out of his office, slipping a jacket on as he headed for the door. Noticing the four of them still sitting there, he stopped. "And why the hell are you four still here?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We like to have sleepovers after everyone goes home." Munch baited, his usual wit still showing in the late hours "Thought we'd tell ghost stories."

Cragen's mouth drew itself into a hardened line. If anyone but Munch tried that on him, they'd have their ass kicked straight out the front door. "Oh yeah? You wanna put in some unpaid over-time workin the tip line tomorrow?" Cragen returned, threat in his voice.

The color visibly drained from the older detectives face at the thought of answering those wretched phone calls off the clock. "I didn't think so." Cragen said 'Now who wants to not be a smart ass?"

"We're working on the Goth Killer case." Stabler said his eyes lingering on Benson before flickering to Cragen.

Cragen seemed unphased. "Well, you don't have any new leads, so why are you still here?"

Benson looked between all of the detectives before responding. "Captain…we think we…"

"Might need some help on this one." Fin finished.

Cragen looked down towards the floor. 'That would be why I put in a call to an old friend in the FBI."

All four cops exchanged glances. "We'll be receiving several agents from Quantico, Virginia's Behavioral Analysis Unit in the morning." he continued, talking as if this was common knowledge.

"Capatin…we're sorry…" Benson began "We're doing our best."

"No ones upset and there's no reason to be ashamed." Cragen shrugged, heading towards the door "Sometimes we just don't have the resources. It's just time to call in the cavalry."

With that he exited the squad room. Munch was the first to stand. "Well this'll be fun." he hissed, not keen on the idea at all "FBI buzzards picking around the office."

"Must be your worst nightmare." Fin chuckled, feeling a little better now that he was allowed to go home and sleep "Worried they'll out shine you?"

"More like worried they'll snoop until they've uncovered my hidden past." He feigned, pulling on his long jacket.

"I'm with Munch." Stabler admitted, gathering up his papers "Huang is one thing, but I don't like the thought of FBI goons flockin around the office."

'We don't really have a lot of choice at this point, guys." chimed the voice of reason as she headed for her locker "We're outwitted. We could use some fresh minds in here."

"Just watch your backs is all I'm sayin." Munch started, but Fin cut in "Don't start your conspiracy nonsense again, man."

"What? Who said this had anything to do with conspiracy?" he questioned, sounding a little hurt "Although, I'd love to ask them how they managed to cover up all those JFK related-"

"Shut Up John!" The three detectives yelled in unison as they made their way for the elevator.

Munch raised his hands in a surrendering gesture as he stepped into the elevator. As the doors began to shut, an uneasy silence fell over our four shielded heroes. Just who were these special agents from Quantico?

_Whew! And here it is! The mothership chapter of my Criminal Minds SVU cross over! Don't worry CM fans! Next chapter is all about our favorite special agents! I want to also apologize for the time in between the prologue and this update. I decided to do some research on all the characters by watching my dvds. I wanted to make sure I was writing the characters as close to perfect as possible. _

_Until next chapter friends and fans! Read and Review!_

_~Sven_


	3. Witching Hour

_Thomas Edison once said "Our greatest weakness lies in giving up. The most certain way to succeed is always to try just one more time."_

The gentle whirring of the the private luxury jet owned by the Quantico branch of the Behavioral Anylasis Unit was the only sound in the dark plane. It was late. Last time anyone had checked a watch, it was well pasted midnight. The destination of this flight was the city of New York where the special agents were to collaborate with the detectives of the Special Victims Unit in catching the most organized serial killer in recent history.

"Twenty six victims in the past six months." came a disbelieving sigh from one of the filled seats "And they're _just now _calling us in?"

Derek Morgan was flipping through one of the victim profiles the kind Captain of the SVU department faxed over to them only hours ago. The page on the top was the shortest. The most recent murder of a young boy named Henry Burkhart. Cause of death, seven stab wounds to the chest, signs of anal rape were present as well as bruising to the lower abdomen. He was connected to the other victims in the manallia filing folder by his recent induction into a rising vampirc cult known as la Culte du Sang. No suspects. All the religious leaders and senior members had been cleared with DNA and Alibis.

"I feel like its obvious why they haven't managed to catch the unsub yet." came the knowning and matter-of-fact tone of Dr. Spencer Reid as he tapped his pen on the the pull out table "Their current criminal profile is suggesting that the killer is a member of the Cult."

"There's no way its someone killing inside the cult." was the skeptical interjection of agent Emily Prentiss "More likely someone who wants the cult dismantled."

"This isn't the work of a singular unsub. The difference in the killing pattern of each victim is unique to several different profiles. It's likely a group lead by an organized killer."

Erin Hotchner was laying out pictures of the crime scenes. Reid stode to get a more full view of the layout. He began scooping up several of the different images, and rearranging them. The other agents watched him work. "Here." he finished, pointing at two arrays he's created.

Morgan could see what Reid was getting at. "These four here were all commited by the same unsub." the young doctor said "Cause of death was ligature strangulation with a belt. The victims were female, dyed hair, white, late twenties. The way he rapes them suggests recklessness. No condom was used meaning he knows his DNA can't be matched in any police systems. He likes playing dangerous, the thrill excites him. He uses strangulation because its slower, the belt allows him to adjust."

Hotchner reached for the second line up. "This set suggested someone who was almost embarrased by the act." he began "These three victims are different races, all male, choosen without discrimination. All were found with condoms still on, making the killer female. This is also backed by the use of a gun as the men would have been able to over power her. Ballistics proved that these victims were shot at point blank range. One shot to the head. Quick and painless, showing remorse."

"Who do they have workin over there?" Morgan scoffed, finding the detectives oversite of these obvious signs to be a joke "A bunch of rookies?"

"Actually," came a fifth voice in the crowd "Captain Cragen is an old poker buddy of mine. And his Detectives have one of the highest closure rates in years. All of them decorated officers with commendations. One was twenty years in Baltimore homicide and is lookin good to take the sergeants exam."

Agent Jason Gideon sat back in his chair, deep in thought. His fingers were gently placed together as he analyzed the information before him. "Remember, the Detective's aren't trained in the same way we are. They usually have the help of FBI criminal profiler and psycologist Doctor George Haung but he's away on a classified assignment."

Hutchner took a seat next to Printiss. "Can we really blame them? This seems to be a very organized crime ring." she commented, gesturing to the scenes before them "Other then these two strings, theres no corolation between the killings. I mean, this one here..."

She pointed at a young white male victim. "...matches the most recent victim. Multiple stab wounds, male on male domination."

"We see the patterns because we're looking for them." Hotchner added "They believed they were dealing with a single unsub or members of cult. It was easy for us, as outsiders, to look in and understand."

All the agents went back to their silence. Analyazing, calculating. It was quiet for a few minutes, but then, the ever rambunctious young doctor spoke up. "So what is our plan?" he asked "We were told to expect to a long stay."

He looked between Hotch and Gideon. "Are...are we..."

"There's a possibility this may become an undercover sting operation." Hotch stated plainly.

"Hey woah, I never agreed to go undercover." Morgan piped in, sounding a little distressed.

"We believe we need to infultrate the cult as to lure out the killers. Currently, we have no suspects and the only solid lead we have is that the ring attacks are on members of le Culte du Sang and that they were all members of the gothic underground. We can't risk anymore civilians in this case."

Hotch explained breifly their reasoning but was met with more protests. The battle went back and forth for a few minutes before Gideon held up a hand. "It may not come to it. We just want to be prepared. This group has killed twenty six people and if we have to go undercover to catch these people, even if it means becoming characters in bad horror movie, then thats exactly what we are going to do."

_I know, I know. Shorter then the SVU chapter and I don't quite have the same grasp on the characters. In the next chapter, you're really gonna see the BAU boys (and Printiss) shine! I promise. Now that we're all setup, wait for the story to unfold. Until next time my friends._

_~Sven_


	4. The Coven Convenes

The morning breeze that blew through New York City was brisk and biting. The chilly air was something detective Olivia Benson was quite used to. She pulled her parka a little tighter around her as she made her way the short walk from the traffic jam her cab had wound itself into, to the precinct. Happily, she'd left a little earlier then usual. Today, the 16th precinct was to receive the elite profilers from the FBI's Behavioral Anylasis Unit in Quantico, Virginia to help with an ongoing investigation.

In the past year, a large string of serial killings had sprung up in the Manhattan Burrough, rapes involved. Only recently were all the killings linked upon the discovery that every single one of the victims was some how part of the gothic underground community and were new inductee's of le Culte du Sang, a religious group centered around the idea of vampirism. The detectives had met their match. No consistent murder weapon, no motive, nothing at all to suggest a pattern. After the twenty sixth victim was connected to the others, the SVU preformed a hail marry and called the Feds.

When Olivia stepped out of the elevator and turned the corner, she found she wasn't the only one early for work. Detective John Munch stood, eyes fixed through the windows of the closed double doors to the squad room, arms crossed. He seemed, quite frankly, pissed off. He didn't even glance over when his coworker walked up next to him, his mouth pursed in the way it did when he wanted to give you his most disapproving look. She noticed he hadn't yet removed his leather gloves. "Are you seeing this crap?" he asked her, voice like a knife, finger pointing through the glass.

Benson's gazed through the window. Inside was quite a sight. Four of the desks, and I'm sure you can guess whose, had been pushed together and cleaned of all of their amenities, which were now in boxes by Cragen's office. The case files and images of all of the crime scenes were spread across them. A young man was rearranging them while a older agent was placing specific images on a glass board. A little ways away, a black gentleman was fiddling with the coffee maker and chatting with a black haired women, presumably about the low quality of the machine. "They didn't waste anytime settling in." Benson commented bitterly.

"It's one thing to take over my desk, but the coffee maker? That coffee maker is _our_ coffee maker, Liv."

Benson shook her head smiling. Leave it to Munch to make it trivial. "I haven't even met any of them and already I want them gone." he mumbled.

"Lets just let um do their job and get this over with." she responded, shrugging.

"Yeah, right, sure." John grumbled, sliping his gloves of with a little more relish then usual.

As he stuffed them angrily into his pockets, Elliot and Odafin strolled up, joining the small congregation. "Whats up, John? You look pissed." Fin asked, the smile he'd been sporting dropped "Did they prove the moon landing?"

"Look at those government insects." Munch began, cranking his jaw in between words "Making their little nest of bureaucratic filth in our office. Desecrating our work spaces, soiling our foutain of youthful vigor."

"John, you wrok for the damn government." Fin reminded him, chortling.

"So you're messed up over the coffee maker?" Stabler chuckled, but then he peered inside and saw the state of his desk "What in the hell did they do to my desk?"

"Whose laughing now, hmm?" Munch glared over the top rim of his glasses.

"Does someone wanna tell me why my detectives are standing around while there's work to be done?"

All four shields whipped around. The booming voice of the captain left them at a lose for words as he stood there eyeing each of them. Next to him, a slightly shorter man with just a little more hair was ringing his hands gently. The detectives looked between each other, sizing each other up, silently deciding who should answer. "I'm waiting." Cragen stated firmly.

Giving up, Benson spoke up. "Sorry captain we were just a little confused."

"Save it." he returned, contradicting his original question "I'd like to introduce you to special agent Jason Gideon of the Quantico Behavioral Anylasis Unit."

The man raised a hand in kind gesture. "These are_ supposed _to be my top detectives." Cragen introduced "Detectives Olivia Benson, Elliot Stabler, John Munch, and Odafin Tutuola."

Gideon extended a hand to each of the detectives. Fin shook his hand quickly, Elliot firmly, Benson politely, and Munch reluctantly. "It's a pleasure to meet you all." He said, after finishing greeting them "I wish it could be under better circumstances."

He stretched his arms out before bringing his hands together. "Now, if you four are done making asses of yourselves," Cragen began, his eyes on the floor before meeting Munch's leers "the agents are ready to meet you all."

Munch let out a tch before turning and pushing the door open.

"The coffee around this place is terrible." Morgan commented, making a face at his mug " I mean, I've had some bad joe but this is somethin' else."

Prentiss laughed "He's right, this is pretty bad java."

"Aye, Reid!" Derek called to his friend "Wanna make a Starbucks run before the New York's '_finest_' show up?"

Spencer didn't respond. He was busying himself with the arrangement of the crime scene photos. Periodically, he'd hand a photo to Hotchner, explaining the connection to one of the photos on the board. Hotch was sticking the photos to the glass and then drawing lines between them in various colored markers and making small notes.

"This crime scene is similar to the Morrison's. Arnold Shayland, blunt force trauma, but the position the body was lain in is similar. These sights also appeared to be dump jobs."

The doctor handed the image to his fellow agent. "Could mean they were dumped by the same person, not necessarily murdered."

Prentiss was watching them work over her coffee. "I don't think this is any kind of normal group." she spoke up "I know we discussed church groups or opposing religious groups, but maybe its something more along the lines of a neighborhood watch gone bad."

"Could also have be some sort of frat like college initiation." Morgan tossed out "Like a club or party situation."

"Captain Cragen seems nice." Reid blurted suddenly.

Hotch turned and eyed the doctor. "Particularly so considering the kind of unit he has to run." he complimented the SVU's leader "Detectives in this unit usually only last two years before transferring."

"Didn't you say the detectives we'll be working with have been in this unit for more then three each?" Reid asked curiously.

"Besides Detective Tutuola, yes." Hotchner corrected "He's just coming up on his second full year. He was previously narcotics."

"Right." Reid began a long winded speech "Did you know there was actually a writer named Amos Tutuola? He wrote the book, The Palm Wine Drinkard, which was a sort of collection of folktales from the Yoruba tribe. An odafin was a title given to spiritual leaders of a village which is used in the book. The name literally translates to "establisher of law" and Tutuola means-"

"The gentle one. Thanks for the lesson."

The profilers turned their attention towards the doors of the squad room. Six people were entering the room, one of which was Gideon. "Agents, these are the detectives of the special victims unit." Gideon presented the four individuals, one of whom had a scowl plastered across his face.

"I think it's only fair your agents introduce themselves to us considering they've already made themselves at home." the eldest, and most disgusted, of the four interjected, voice dripping in sarcasm.

The agents glanced at each other. It was Hotchner who stepped forward, taking the lead as usual. "I'm special agent Aaron Hotchner." he offered his introduction before feeding them the others "These are agents Derek Morgan, Emily Printiss, and Doctor Spencer Reid."

Reid waved and smiled sheepishly. "Doctor?" the black detective questioned "He barely looks nineteen."

"I'm twenty five actually." Reid responded defensively "I graduated highschool at twelve, I have an eidatic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute."

The detectives stared blankly "Yes, I'm a genius."

The smile was now nervous as he rocked back and forth on his heels. "Great, a wise ass." Munch grumbled.

There was only room for one smart mouth around here and it wasn't gonna be a book worm. Cragen took over "I apologize for my detectives rudeness." he said, his glares focused on Munch "These are Detectives Elliot Stabler, Olivia Benson, Odafin Tutuola, and the jack ass with a bad mouth is our esteemed Detective John Munch."

Munch rolled his eyes. Benson tried to shot the agents a welcoming smile. Fin and Elliot were sizing them up. Suddenly, Elliot extended a hand to Hotchner. "Welcome to the sleepless city, Agents." he greeted, grinning the toothy grin he saved just for perps.

Cautiously, Hotchner took the firm grip of the detective. For a moment, the two stared each other down, piercing eyes, searching for information. Investigating. The grips broke.

"Shall we get started then?" Hotchner asked the detectives.

"By all means." Stabler responded, gesturing to the desks.

The BAU feds turned and circled the left side of the desks, the detectives stepped forward and circled the right. Before anyone spoke, Cragen gestured for Gideon to come with him to his office. Gideon looked about at his agents before spinning round to follow the captain.

After the two had closed the door behind them, a silence fell over the group. Standing across from each other, they could see the similarities in the congregation. Each team had a strong young women, a black gentleman with unique sense of justice, a father who had probably been doing the job longer then he should, and a genius who saw things differently then the rest.

"We're able to give a preliminary profile of your group." Hotch informed the Detectives.

"Wait, I'm sorry, did you say group?" Benson spoke, sounding concerned.

"You didn't think this was a single unsub, did you?" Morgan asked, sounding disappointed and amused.

"Unsub?" she returned.

"Unidentified subject." he explained "It's how we refer to the killer."

"Around here, we call them the perp or the doer." Munch's voice was barely safe from his wit "I guess we're just simpler folk."

Morgan turned his entire upper body, arms crossed, to give Hotch a look as if to say "is this guy serious?" before finishing his original statement "You're actually looking for a group of 'doers.' We've identified at least eight individual profiles."

"Yeah well," Fin interjected "We tried the group angle. Turns out DNA doesn't lie and the cults clean."

"That's because you're looking for a different kind of group." Doctor Reid stepped in "The killings appear disorganized and untraceable because we know it to be a singular unsu-uhm...'doer' who is leading a group of followers to rape and murder these people."

He pointed out a specific set of photos which had been placed on the glass with blue and red lines splaying to other images. "We believe these four killings were done by the groups leader. He's a serious aggressor who enjoys torturing and prolonging his victims torture. We've seen that he attacks young women with dyed hair, possibly connecting the victims to a women who over powers him in his life. He likes control over his victims, its why he uses the belt. He's also reckless and believes he is uncatchable. He doesn't use a condom knowing his DNA will not be matched in the system."

The young doctor was gesturing with a pen towards each of the images. Prentiss picked up where Reid had stopped.

"He'll be in his late 30's early 40's, likely white. He has no priors and holds an office job where he is well liked and respected. He has a problem with female authority. He either works under a women he doesn't care for or has controlling female in his life."

"Okay, so if he's the ring leader, what kind of group are we looking for?" Stabler asked, taking on the role of voicing the teams opinions.

"We aren't quite sure yet." Hotchner answered.

"Yeah, great, thanks." Munch commented, unable to control his outbursts "So all you've managed to do is give us more perps? Yeah, that's great."

"At least we had enough of a brain to realize this wasn't one disorganized killer but several with individual patterns." Morgan stabbed, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry, did you just call me stupid?" Munch turned, one hand finding the desk, the other his hip.

The cocky younger agent turned to Hotch again. He shot him a warning look. "No, Detective, I wasn't implying you were mentally deficient, just that you needed an extra few pairs of differently trained eyes."

He thought it was a nice save, however the grinding of Munch's teeth was almost audible. "Easy, John." Fin warned, but narrowed his eyes "So what else can you tell us about the group we'll be looking for?"

Reid looked to Hotch, receiving a nod to continue. "We know the group is none discriminating. We've identified one pattern that suggests a women was the perpetrator."

He pointed out another three images that had been arranged on the glass. "The victims, all male, were chosen without discrimination of race or age. They had what appeared to be consensual sex with a condom before she killed them with a single gun shot to the head. No signs of any kind of fight had occurred other then the killing blow. She covered the body, showing signs of guilt and remorse."

Benson was taking notes. She had never encountered anything like this before. "Are these the only patterns you were able to find?" she asked, the first of her squad to show genuine interest "We're their any other indicators?"

Seeing that finally, one of the detectives was starting to realize why they were here, Morgan answered "The only other pattern we've been able to discover is these."

He gestured to two photos. One was an older man who had been beaten to death before being anally raped, the other was their most recent victim, Henry Burkhart. "They were both dump jobs done by the same person. Bodies were lain in the same fashion, on their backs, gently."

The detectives chewed on this information for a moment. Munch spoke "So we're looking for a psycho with a hatred for the macabre and his gang of merry raping homicidal maniacs?"

"Why are they attacking members of the Cult?" Stabler questioned "Could it be a church congregation?"

"That's what we haven't figured out yet." Hotchner admitted, hands pushing his jacket back to rest on his hips.

"So what exactly is the plan here then?" Fin asked "If its a group, its not like researching the victims pasts and families is gonna help."

"Right. It's doubtful that the victims knew their attackers." Reid explained "Maybe someone they had passed on the street or seen once in their nightclub bars."

"Then how do we track them down?" Stabler's voice was beginning to show signs of frustration.

"Son of a bitch."

The detectives turned their heads to Munch. "You expect us to go undercover?!" he hissed, jabbing a finger straight at Hotchner.

Fin's head snapped back around towards Hotchner. "Look, sir, I'm the only one in this unit with deep cover training. I don't-"

But it was Morgan who spoke next. "I thought you said it was only a possibility?"

Hotchner took a moment to speak. "We...can't risk the lives of anymore civilians." he said simply "Too many have already been lost."

"So you want us to try and get into the group?" Benson sounded less curious and more angered "How do we do that if we don't even know what type of group we're looking for."

"We won't be trying to infiltrate the killers group." Munch spat "These _agents_ expect us to set ourselves up as possible targets by joining la Culte du Sang and masquerading as Dracula."

"You're very perceptive, detective." Hotch complimented.

"Really? Because I usually hear that I'm..." he feigned ignorance "Oh whats that word Fin?"

"Crazy." He responded, rolling his eyes at his partner.

Munch held a hand towards Fin, giving the agents his famous over the top of his glasses matter-o-fact look.

"You want us to go undercover as goths?" Stabler's eyes went from the left side of the room to meet Hotchner's stern gaze.

"The idea is that one of us be set up as an owner of a night club that will cater strictly to the industrial underground." The seasoned Agent explained "Others will be given identities as various members of the community. We'll figure out what covers you'll use based on each of our strengths."

"Woah, hold on." Stabler raised his hands "How long do you expect us to play dress up? I have a family with four kids."

"We think we'll be under for a minimum of two months."

"Excuse me?" Benson exclaimed, fingers resting on her side.

"We know this is a big thing we're asking."

"You think?" Stabler spat.

He was starting to see why Munch hated the government. "I'm not doing it." he objected.

"You are if you wanna keep your job." Cragen spoke, having left the office.

All of the cops and feds gazes fell on the Captain. "We have a group of killers somewhere in Manhattan. You said your selves you need help. This is the solution Agent Gideon and Hotchner came to."

The detectives AND agents raised a voice to object but Gideon threw up his hands. "We know this is not a convient solution-"

"Convient? Understatment of the century." Munch mumbled.

"I've about had it with you today." Cragen snapped "You got a better idea? Because I sure would love to hear it."

Munch raised both of his hands and turned away. "Both of our units are giving up our best men and women to accomplish this." Gideon spoke again "But we have been left with no other options. Twenty six people have been murdered and we can't afford that number to rise."

"I have a family." Stabler repeated.

"You aren't the only one, Detective Stabler." Hotchner inserted, his tone much more stern "We all have to make sacrifices."

The room was silent for another moment. It was Munch who broke the silence. "Well, I think the dent in my couch cushion will live with out me for awhile."

He shrugged and slapped a hand on to Fin's shoulder. "You ready to become a creature of the night, my friend?"

"Actually, John," Cragen looked up at his detective "We've decided you'll get the staring role in this little operation."

Munch raised an eyebrow "What? Stuffy over there not bonned up on Bram Stroker?" he pointed a thumb at Hotchner.

"No, 'Stuffy' is going to be running the operation from behind the scenes." Gideon infomed the inquiring Conspirist.

"Oh no John." Cragen slapped a hand to Munch's back "We need someone with a little bit more...flash."

Munch's lips pursed as he realized that he wasn't getting out of this one. "Doctor Reid." Cragen turned to the young boy "I'm sorry to inform you but you'll be playing John's son."

Ried looked a bit fearful. "Don't worry, kid, his bark is worse then his bite." Stabler comforted.

"Oh, that'll change real quick." Cragen laughed "I think the look they have planned for you had fangs."

Munch's eyes widened and fixed on Fin. "Oh man I can't wait to see this." Fin laughed.

Benson had to cover her mouth. "Gee Munch, I never pegged you as the blood drinking type."

"Oh haha, Olivia."

"Really cause I never pegged him as the child rearing type." Even Stabler had to make a joke.

Munch stepped around the table towards Doctor Reid "Oh come on now," he said, reaching an arm around to grasp Reid's shoulder "Can't you see the family resemblance?"

Reid tried to wiggle free. "Please, detective, I don't like to be touched."

Munch let go "Sorry kid."

"We'll figure out what roles the rest of you will play when detective Fargise arrives." Cragen informed "He'll be in charge of your identities and training you for your cover. He'll have a small team that will help you create and mantain these identites."

"We'd like to see full cooperation between all of you." Gideon added "We'll be setting you up in fake homes, brand new jobs, so on."

They all looked around at each other. "Well I guess we don't really have much of a choice do we?"

Cragen looked to the floor before meeting her gaze."No you don't."

Prentiss spoke "Then I guess we'd all better start getting to know each other."

"We'll leave you to that then." Gideon clasped his hands together "I will be returning to Quantico to pick up two of our other agents. When I get back, I'd like to see what you've come up with."

"You four behave." Cragen commanded, pointing specifically at Munch.

The two older men left the squad room. Silence fell over the room yet again. No one was particularly happy with this arrangment. Being stuck together for two months playing the rolls of characters out of an Anne Rice novel wasn't anyones ideal way to spend their time.

Hotchner was once again the one to speak. "I guess now would be as good a time as any to allow you detectives to start making preperations."

"What the hell am I supposed to tell my wife?" Stabler asked, fury on the tip of his voice.

"Tell her you've been asked to particapate in a special training course of some kind." Morgan tossed out, shrugging.

"Don't worry, Stabler, Cathy will understand." Fin offered.

Stabler sighed. "It'll be fine El." Liv placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Drink from me and live forever."

Everyone turned to look at Reid. He looked around at everyone. "It's one of the most quoted vampire phrases. Its also the manifesto of la Culte du Sang."

No one said anything. "Just tryin to get into character." he said, his mouth forming into a line.

Munch shook his head "This is gonna be a nightmare."

"Nah, I think thats what you'll be dressed as, Dracula." Fin joked.

Morgan cracked a smile. "Gotta admit, this might be more enjoyable then I expected."

They all looked at each other. These eight government officials were about to become a rag tag crew of Rocky Horror riff raff in an attempt to bring down a modern day bunch of van Hellsings. For the next two months, the BAU and the SVU were going to be closer then any group of mistrusting individuals ever didn't want to be.

As Olivia Benson left the squad room, she thought about the guy she'd just managed to nab a date with. She thought about all of the victims of these miserable crimes. She thought about the BAU agents...

How had they all wound up in this mess?

_And here we have the first meeting! This was a lot harder to write then I thought. I'm planning to try and focus more on Printiss and Benson as well as the others since I skipped over them a little. But I hope you're all enjoying! Thanks for reading!_

_~Sven_

_PS I have gone back and corrected my spelling of Prentiss, reworked a few oddities and did a general spelling and grammar run through!_


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